


Cold Reality

by KatDancer



Series: Tales of the Inquisitor [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-11 17:52:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4446002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatDancer/pseuds/KatDancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Backstory of Nyssa Aurelia Trevelyan, former Enchanter of the Circle at Ostwick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Snow for Summersday

_“Cold, hard, a chill more than ice to cut through joy and love. The clank of armor and no goodbye. They didn’t let you have Charger.”_

_“Hello, Cole.” Nyssa Aurelia Trevelyan, formerly of the Ostwick Circle of Magi and now the leader of the Inquisition, looked up from her drink. The woman pushed her wavy chestnut hair back behind an ear, her hazel eyes hooded. She was sitting on the upper level of the tavern in a corner by herself – or at least, she_ had _been by herself. As far as she knew, Cole had never felt the need to come down from his attic sanctum before now._

 _She mustn’t be drunk enough to drown her feelings yet._ Lucky her.

_“You wanted to make her happy. Shining like diamonds, perfect ruby gems….”_

_“Cole,” she said quietly._

_“You hurt,” he explained._

_“I know. This one you can’t help with.” She picked up the bottle and walked past him, heading carefully up the stairs to the battlements, wrapping her dignity around herself like a cloak._

_He watched her through the lank fringe of blond hair. “I did that wrong,” he murmured to himself, and disappeared._

_Nyssa was sitting on the battlements overlooking the garden when Varric walked over, puffing slightly. “Never seen such a place for stairs,” he muttered. “You might keep to lower elevations if the kid’s going to run and tell me you need to be helped.”_

_“Varric.” She passed him the bottle._

_He sniffed it, his nose wrinkling, and then took a swig. “Gwaren whiskey. I guess the kid was right to come get me.” He sat beside her. “Something on your mind?”_

_Nyssa turned, to look at him, and said quietly, “Many things. But I guess this once I can tell a story to the storyteller….”_

 

 

 

Nyssa was _bored._

Her mother and father were throwing another party, so the whole house was being turned upside down -- servants cleaning and polishing, running and fetching. Even her governess had been commandeered to help her brothers Aisley and Matthew with all the last minute tailoring fixes necessary for formal dress.

Nyssa had been abandoned in her room, and told not to leave it until her governess came back. Her room was boring though -- books and toys she had no interest in at the moment because they were all quiet things and Nyssa was many things but quiet and demure were not any of them.

It had been easy enough for the six year old girl to slip out of the large doors in her room that led into her mother's rose garden. It had a high, ornate wrought-iron fence and a tall hedge on the inside of that -- for security and privacy. No one really cared if she got out into the rose garden because it was safe -- and mother only scolded if she hurt the roses. Mother never seemed to mind when the roses hurt her _first_ , though.

She was running around in the garden, just for the sheer joy of being outside.  She ran towards the fishpond first.  The fish were so pretty and they liked to come up and beg for food.  Nyssa didn't have any food but she knew they'd come up for her anyway and....

She tripped.

He foot caught in the hem of her dress, and she saw she was falling into the pond, and mother would be furious that she'd gotten wet and dirty, and Nyssa cried out, closing her eyes and throwing her arms in front of her face....

And landed on something cold and solid.

A few moments later, she gathered the courage to open her eyes.

One of the fish was right below her, bumping against -- ice?  Was it ice separating them?  It was!

Nyssa got up carefully and backed off the pond.  Her hands felt cold, and put them flat on a stone bench that was sitting in the sun to warm them.

The bench crackled, and a sheet of ice formed around it.

Nyssa looked at her hands, then looked at the bench.  Then carefully, she turned and touched one of her mother's roses.

 

"Look mama!"  Nyssa had laughed and called, "Look!  Come in the garden!  See what I did!"  She clapped her hands and jumped up and down in joyful pride. "Look! I made them _prettier!"_

The garden twinkled and shone in the summer sun -- every single bloom of rose encased in crystal-clear ice.  As her parents stood at the entrance to the garden stock still, surveying what she had done, a cloud moved in front of the sun and plunged the garden into cool shadows.

 


	2. Chilled Relations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after Nyssa made the flowers pretty.

Nyssa lay on the floor limply, between her bed and the wall, thumb in her mouth and curled up around her stuffed horse, Charger. Her eyes were red and watery, and her face smeared with snot and tears. She didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. When her parents had come to the rose garden to see what she was so excited and happy to show them, they hadn’t reacted the way she thought they would.

 

_“Mama, I made them prettier! I made them prettier for you!” Nyssa had danced around, giggling happily and tugging at her mother’s sleeve. “Look, Mama! I made them shiny!”_

_Marcus Trevelyan had looked around the garden, his mouth first going slack with surprise, then looking at his wife. Leticia had gasped, covering her mouth with both hands._

_“Papa, look!” Nyssa took his hand, tugging him forward toward the ice-encased roses. “They’re pretty! And now those old thorns can’t scratch! Isn’t it nice?”_

_Marcus had looked at her, his hazel eyes unreadable. “It’s… very pretty. The sun shining on the roses. Very pretty indeed.” He’d knelt beside her. “How did you do it, pussycat?”_

_Nyssa had grinned, still holding his hand. “I **falled** ,” she said, pointing at the pond, where the colorful fish moved sluggishly under a thick sheet of ice. “I falled and I knew I was going to get wet, and Mama would be angry I got all wet, and I wished. I wished **hard**.” _

_“You wished,” he said gently, as her mother began to cry quietly._

_Nyssa nodded, and let go. “I wished hard, and I didn’t fall in, I falled on the ice. And then I made more ice. Like this!” She ran over to a willow tree, and touched one of the whippy branches that draped toward the ground. As they watched, ice slowly crackled and crept up the branch until the last four feet was also encased in ice. “Isn’t it pretty, Papa?”_

_He nodded, his eyes very sad, all of a sudden. “Very pretty, pussycat.”_

_Nyssa cocked her head, frowning. Why was her papa sad? She ran toward her mother. “Mama, why is Pa—“_

_“Don’t touch me!!” Leticia had backed away as if Nyssa were a poisonous snake, and Nyssa stopped, open-mouthed. Mama had never done that before – she’d told Nyssa not to wrinkle her dress, but never done anything like that._

_“Mama?” Nyssa asked, her voice piping high with worry. “Mama, what’s wrong, what….” She took a step toward her mother._

_“Get away from me!”_

_“Leticia,” her father had said softly, “don’t frighten her. She doesn’t understand….”_

_Her mother had whirled, and disappeared in a swirl of skirts. “She’ll kill us all!”_

_Nyssa had looked after her mother, trembling, then looked up at her father. “Papa?”_

_His face was serious, his lips compressed into a tight line. He tried to smile at her, but Nyssa could tell it wasn’t a REAL smile. “Let’s get you back to your room, shall we?” he said with fake heartiness. “You can play inside and not spoil how pretty the garden looks now.”_

That had been hours before, and when she had tried the door to go find Ainsley to play with, she’d found it was locked – as were the doors directly to the garden.

She had pounded on the doors begging to be let out, screaming for someone, anyone to come play with her, and had cried stormily, throwing herself to the floor in a violent and uncharacteristic tantrum until, limp as a rag, she’d crawled into the space between her bed and the wall.

She hiccuped softly as she sucked her thumb – something only _babies_ did, not big girls six years of age!

Still no one came – _no one_ was coming to let her out. She had heard arguing – her parents. They _never_ argued. The only thing she’d clearly heard was her father shouting, “Maker’s breath, Letty, she’s just a baby!”

She thought she’d heard Ainsley outside the door once, a strangled sob of “Nys,” then the sound of someone pulling him away from the door.

She was almost asleep when she heard the door scrape open, and head the metallic clank and tread entering her room. She squinched her eyes shut even more tightly, and hung onto Charger. She knew that when she opened her eyes, something bad – very bad – was going to happen to her.

She wished she knew why.


	3. Knights Take Pawn

“Nyssa!”

The voice was unfamiliar, and it echoed oddly. Nyssa stopped mid-suck on her thumb, her eyes suddenly open and very much awake.

“Nyssa Trevelyan, come out here _right now!”_

An instinct told her that this was the _very bad thing_ that was about to happen, and Nyssa shook her head silently. She eased over onto her stomach and crawled, very slowly and quietly, under the bed. Maybe if she and Charger were super quiet, the scary echoey voice would go away.

She buried her face in Charger’s short, dappled grey fabric and coarse mane. Charger had been made to look like the horse of House Trevelyan’s heraldry, and even had scratchy old horsehair for a mane. It smelled comfortingly of Nyssa – she had slept with Charger tucked under her arm for many years.

“ _Nyssa Aurelia Trevelyan_ , I will not repeat myself. NOW.”

“Maker’s breath, Tristan, you’ll scare the piss out of her.” That voice was also male, but not so loud nor so echoey. “She’s just a kid.” Quiet, lighter steps came into the room carefully.

“Mage,” Tristan corrected curtly.

“ _Child_.” The second voice was closer now, coaxing. “Nyssa, I’m Byron. Please come out and meet us. It isn’t very polite to hide, is it, when you have guests?”

Nyssa remained very still. _You’re not a guest,_ she thought furiously.

“Maker’s ass, we don’t have all day,” growled Tristan, and suddenly there was a scraping sound and the bed was yanked away from the wall.

Nyssa yelped as the leg of the bed scraped over one hand, and hugging Charger hard, scrambled up and flung herself into the corner. She had an impression of something immense and cold and metal looming over her, and it suddenly lunged for her. “PAPA!!! MOMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!” she screamed, pressing herself into the wall, trying desperately to get away.

“Andraste’s mercy, Tristan….”  Then there were hands, hands trying to get a firm grip on her and lift her up.  "Nyssa, sweetling, let me see your hand...."

Nyssa shrieked, kicking and struggling, and she felt the air turning cold around her.  She slapped at the hand on her arm, and felt her tears freezing on her face....

There was a flash, and the cold disappeared abruptly.  Nyssa kicked and tried to pull free, and suddenly there was a second flash -- this one painful and nausea-inducing, and Nyssa fell, retching, to the ground.

"You will come _now_." Tristan growled.

Nyssa whimpered, and found herself being lifted up into a strong pair of arms – a pair of arms covered in cloth, not metal. She couldn’t have resisted if she wanted to. She smelled the sick on the floor, and on her dress – her pretty party dress. Mama was going to be _so angry_.

She realized that the man picking her up was going to get her vomit on his robes, and she began to cry. She was going to be in _so much trouble_ now.

Byron settled her against his shoulder, hushing her and stroking her back gently. “It’s going to be all right, Nyssa,” he said softly. “It would have gone better if you hadn’t fought us.”

Nyssa sensed that he was genuinely kind, and sobbing, put her arms around his neck. “I want my papa,” she whimpered.

Byron managed to bend at the knees and catch Charger up by an ear, then hand him to Nyssa. “I know you do,” he said gently. “But we have to go now.”

Nyssa began to sob, and buried her face in Byron's shoulder.  She had an impression of being whisked past servants, who whispered as she passed -- some in fright, some in sympathy.  Her governess she heard crying.

She didn't see her parents.

"NYS!"  Ainsley was running alongside, tugging at her sleeve.  "Nyssa, I'll come for you, they can't have you, they...."

She looked up just in time to see the Templar, Tristan, yank Ainsley away and shove him aside.  Charger spun out of her arms, and Nyssa started to wail.  "You will let us pass."

Byron started to slow, to pick up the toy again, and Tristan shook his head.  "Leave it.  She can't have it anyway.  Better to have it stay here than we confiscated at the Circle."

The mage sighed, but kept walking, patting her back. 

 

 

 

 


End file.
